


Hop, Skip, Jump

by wood_originals



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Difference, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wood_originals/pseuds/wood_originals
Summary: Nancy wants to get Hopper alone. She doesn't really know why, but she's happy to find out.
Relationships: Jim "Chief" Hopper/Nancy Wheeler
Kudos: 8





	Hop, Skip, Jump

Working at Hawkins Post mostly seemed to involve doing a lot of things Nancy didn’t really care about doing. Like wearing dresses and uncomfortable shoes, making sure her make up and her hair looked professional but still feminine, and listening silently as men told her how she could improve.

And what they thought of her professional but still feminine hair styles.

And how they liked their coffee.

It was suffocating.

One of the only bright spots in her monotonous days was crossing paths with Chief Hopper. She didn’t know when or why she started smiling at him, all she knew was that she loved seeing his reaction. The way his mouth twitched, and he quickly looked away from her.

She didn’t realize it was a game until it was. Her small smiles of greeting started to change to sly grins. She started trying to catch his gaze, hold it for even a second longer. The first time she managed to get him to look at her, she was biting at her bottom lip, and she carefully tucked that piece of knowledge away for later.

The first time she spoke to him, they were passing in the street. She smiled at him, and he nodded back at her before turning away. When they brushed by one another, she said innocently, “Chief.”

He didn’t reply, and when she glanced over her shoulder to watch him walk away, she saw him watching her, too.

Soon, it wasn’t enough for him to notice her, she wanted to talk to him.

It was easy enough to find an excuse to go down to the police station to inquire about details for a story, but it was harder than she expected to get in touch with the Police Chief himself. The first time she stopped in he was off duty. The second time he was busy, “in a meeting,” and though she hovered in the front lobby for nearly ten minutes, he was nowhere to be found.

But if Nancy was anything, she was determined.

Bright and early Monday morning, Nancy waited by the front door of the police station, coffee in hand. She smiled brightly when Officers Powell and Callahan arrived, and ignored the way they glanced at each other when she denied their offers of help.

When Chief Hopper arrived, the coffee was more lukewarm than hot, and he glared at her.

She quickly stepped between him and the door, offering up the coffee, “I was hoping to ask you a couple of questions about a story?”

He huffed, grabbed the coffee, and brushed by her to get through the front door of the building. Nancy took this as her ticket in, following after him easily, talking without really saying much about how stories often have a higher readership if they have a higher sense of credibility, and what was more credible than a quote from the Chief of Police himself?

He opened the door to his office and gestured her in with the coffee, closing the door behind him. She hovered by the chair, biting at her bottom lip, and watched him walk around her and sit down at the chair behind the desk. He put down the coffee and tapped on the wood.

“Nancy Wheeler,” he said finally. She moved to sit down on the chair opposite him, and he continued, keeping his eyes on her. “Guess you’re Mike’s sister?”

Nancy frowned a little, shrugging one shoulder. “I guess. Right now I’m here as an intern for the Hawkins Post, though, sir.”

“Are you?” he said skeptically. He tapped a cigarette out of the half empty pack and lit it, taking a long drag and letting the silence sit in the air between them.

Nancy felt her control of the situation slipping away by the second.

“No,” she said finally, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. She shifted slightly, crossing her ankles and settling into the seat, pulling up the edge of her dress just so and resting her notepad in her lap.

Hopper took another drag from his cigarette and then sighed, resting his head against his hand. “I’m too old for these games. What do you want from me? Information about someone? Want me to arrest a boy who turned you down? What?”

Nancy couldn’t answer even if she wanted to. All she knew was that she liked having his attention all to herself, and she wanted to drag their meeting out for as long as possible. “Are those services that you offer?”

“Fuck, kid,” Hopper said with a rough laugh, shaking his head. Nancy had to fight down a smile, proud that she got him to laugh. “I can’t figure you out. Are you even working on a story?”

“I’m a reporter. I’m always working on a story,” Nancy said simply. “And I’m not a kid.”

Hopper was quick to correct her. “You’re an intern. And you are a kid, kid.”

“I’m a reporter whether they pay me to be one or not, and I’m 18,” Nancy said pointedly, raising her eyebrow at him.

Hopper sighed again. “Eighteen. Shit. You gotta get out of here, come on.” He stood up, and gestured towards the door.

“You haven’t really answered any of my questions,” Nancy said, standing at last when it was clear he was determined to show her out.

“You haven’t really asked any,” he said, mocking her tone slightly, coming around the desk and opening the door, walking her back into the hallway.

“I want to get a coffee with you,” Nancy said, hovering in the entryway so he couldn’t close the door on her, standing close enough to him that she could smell his cologne, the smell of his cigarettes. He shook his head, and she said quickly. “A drink, then.”

“I don’t know what you’re after, but—” Hopper said, but Nancy cut him off.

“I just want to talk,” she said plaintively. It was an honest enough answer, and her breath caught as she said it. She looked up at him.

He finally met her eyes and shook his head slightly, his tone resigned when he spoke. “Fine. Come back here around 9 or 10.”

“I can do that,” Nancy said, and this time she let him push her out the door. It shut sharply behind her, but she wasn’t bothered by that now.

The day dragged by impossibly slow. The day seemed to pass in a blur. Somehow, both of these things were true, and it left Nancy rushing out the door in order to get back to the station for 9 o’clock.

She tried the front door but it was locked, so she knocked on the glass and waited. Hopper came out from the back and unlocked the door, stepping back so Nancy could walk in. He slid the lock back into place after her, and walked back towards his office, gesturing with a nod that she should follow.

The station seemed bigger at night, empty and too bright in the florescent lights. They almost felt like judging eyes bearing down on the two of them, as Nancy followed Hopper to his office for the second time that day.

Back in his office, the door closed behind them, Nancy instantly felt more at ease. Hopper hovered by the door, so Nancy walked over and hopped up onto the desk, kicking her legs out.

“What is this, Nancy?” he said. His voice was rough, tired. Everything about the older man was rough.

Nancy shrugged, the only honest thing she could do in that moment. She chewed at her bottom lip, a little afraid that anything she said could be the wrong thing and he would send her home.

He took two careful steps towards her. The air in the room buzzed with something familiar but strange, heat that felt a little dangerous. Nancy shifted slightly.

“It’s something,” he said finally, hands resting on his belt. Her eyes moved down to his hands absently, feeling her bottom lip start to split, the familiar burn from the broken skin. “You’ve been giving me these looks, and now you’re coming to my work.”

“I want to talk to you,” Nancy replied finally. Her voice sounded quiet, soft. Tentative. “I think. I thought. I just wanted.” She paused, and then went back to worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Hopper closed the space between them, tapping his hand on her chin, bringing her eyes up to meet his. She thought he looked a little sad, but that was still better than angry. She tilted her head to the side.

“You don’t want this,” he said. He said this like an undeniable fact. The sky is blue. Monsters exist. Nancy Wheeler does not want Jim Hopper. His hand went to her shoulder, settling there, warm and heavy and comfortable. “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” she said. She shifted slightly closer to the edge of the desk, bumping her knees against him. When he made a move to step back, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

She could see him closing himself off. His face was going from sad to neutral, and his whole body went stiff, tensing up. “Stay with a friend, then.” His voice was gravelly, firm.

“I want to be here.” She reached out and grabbed at his other sleeve, pulling his arms towards her, forcing him to step closer. She opened her legs to make room for him, her dress pulling up.

He groaned, tugging his arms away from her, but he didn’t step back. He rested his hands on her thighs, and she could feel the heat from his hands through the thin fabric of her dress. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the top of her head.

“You’re killing me, here,” he said in an exhale.

“I’m not trying to,” she offered him gently, putting her hands over his. Her hands looked small compared to his, skin lighter, softer. After a minute, his hands moved down her legs slowly, until the tips of his fingers teased the edge of her dress. She moved her hands away, holding onto the edge of the desk, leaning back to watch him.

His head was still bowed as his hands carefully pushed up under her dress. His hands were thick, wide, and rough with callouses. She had to bite back a strangled moan as her skin buzzed with the pleasure of skin against skin. Eventually his hands settled on her hips, and she felt his thumbs brush over her, searching for soft fabric that wasn’t there.

“I want to be here,” she said again, a little breathless. It wasn’t her first time by a long shot, but Hopper was so clearly a man in a way that made Steve and Jonathan look like boys.

He tugged her closer with a grunt, and her hands moved up in surprise, grabbing at his shoulders. She tried to lean up to kiss him, but he moved his head to the side, so she settled for nuzzling in close to his neck, breathing in the smell of him, cologne and smoke and sweat.

She felt him undoing his belt, his pants, and she made a soft noise of encouragement, rocking up against him. “Stop,” he said, but with no real force behind it, pulling back slightly.

Nancy was about to apologize when she saw him pulling out a small square package from his back pocket. She pressed her tongue against the split in her bottom lip and watched as he opened it and took out the condom, pulling his cock out and sliding the thin layer of latex over himself. His fingers were still sticky with lube when he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer once more.

She grabbed onto the front of his uniform with both hands, mewling softly as she spread her legs for him, letting him guide her. Her dress still covered her, and she felt his fingers trailing up her inner thigh, finding her wet heat, brushing against her.

Her thighs tightened around him as he lined himself up. She could feel the tip of his cock brushing against her folds and she couldn’t help but moan, the sound cracking as he finally pushed in and her whole body crumpled forward against him.

She wanted him so bad, could feel how wet she was for him, but still he stretched her open in a way that was almost painful. He was so much bigger than her boys, not just his cock but the whole of him, sturdy and heavy and warm. He moved like he knew what he was doing, and he did, grabbing her hips again and angling her body until he found the spot inside her that made her cry out.

All of his noises were gruff, sharp, panting breaths in time with his thrusts. She gripped at his arm with one hand, the other one holding on to the front of his shirt, at least one button popped open if not off completely. She could feel her hair coming out of its clip, her bangs sticking to her forehead with sweat.

Every thrust pushed her closer to her climax. She keened soft at the back of her throat, rocking with his movements, searching for release.

“C’mon,” he said with a grunt, slamming into her sharply, and she cried out, squeezing him with her thighs as he pushed her over the edge. Pleasure pulsed through her body. She could feel herself clench around him in waves, her back arching sharply, as it hit her again and again.

He grunted again, pushing into her one more time with a jolt before he stilled. He leaned up against her, and she could hear him panting against her ear, feel his stomach pressing up against her.

After a minute, he pulled away, and she whimpered when he pulled out of her. She felt empty all of a sudden, and the air was cold when he moved away from her. She closed her legs, feeling the wet on her thighs, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Hopper was faced away from her, and when he turned back around, his pants were readjusted and he was doing up his belt, though his shirt was still tugged open and wrinkled. She smiled faintly, exhaustion starting to weigh her down, the adrenaline that had kept her going all day finally spent.

“Darling,” Hopper said gently, stepping forward. He brushed a piece of her hair back behind her ear, and she took his hand, pressing the side of her face against his palm. When she didn’t say anything, he asked nervously, “You hurt?”

Nancy laughed at this, pulling away finally, shaking her head. “I’m perfect.” She hopped up from the desk, standing on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his scratchy cheek. “Thank you, Chief.”

“Aw, hell, kid, don’t call me that,” he said with a frown, shaking his head a little.

“Don’t call me kid, then,” Nancy said. She walked over to the door and opened it. She glanced over her shoulder to get one last look at him before she left. Hopper was leaning up against his desk, face red, trying to fix the button on his shirt. She liked the sight of him like that. “I’ll let myself out.”

The last thing she heard as she walked down the hall was a quiet, drawled, “Fuck.”


End file.
